University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Brutus, Cassius, Cimber.
Bru.
What may this mean? I find you here alone.

Cas.
And are we few, when thou'rt united to us?

Bru.
Tully is wanting ...

Cim.
Didst thou not know this?
Erewhile with many other senators
From Rome precipitately he departed.

Cas.
The frost of years hath paralized in him
His pristine ardour and his virtue ...

Bru.
But
Hath not extinguish'd them. Ah, let no Roman
Dare to despise the illustrious Cicero.
For a more fortunate conjuncture, or
For Rome's advantage, he reserves (I swear it)
His liberty and life.

Cas.
Oh happy we!
Certain are we, certain to gain, with freedom,
An honour'd and an honourable age,
Or in the bloom of life with Rome to perish.

Bru.
Ah! yes; ye're blest indeed! ... Not so am I;
To whom the horrible alternative
Alone remains of living as a slave,
Or perpetrating crimes abhorr'd by nature.

Cas.
What dost thou mean?

Cim.
And what hast thou derived
From thy long conference with Cæsar?

Bru.
I? ...
Nothing for Rome; immeasurable grief
And horror for myself; for you amazement,
Mix'd perchance also with a just contempt.

Cim.
For whom?

Bru.
For Brutus.

Cim.
We, ... contempt ... for thee?

Cas.
Thou, ... who of us art, and of Rome, the soul?

Bru.
I am, ... who would have thought it? Wretched me! ...
I hitherto esteem'd myself the nephew
And son-in-law of Cato the divine; ...
And I'm the offspring of the tyrant Cæsar.

Cim.
What do I hear? Can it be so? ...

Cas.
And be it;
This hinders not that Brutus still should be
The tyrant's most inexorable foe:
Ah! Cassius swears this.

Bru.
An unexpected
And horrible stigma on my blood I find;
To cleanse it I should shed it all for Rome.

Cas.
Brutus should be alone the son of Brutus.

Cim.
But yet, what evidence did Cæsar bring?
How on his word rely? ...

Bru.
Ah, evidence
But too decisive he adduced to me.
He from the first spoke to me as a father:
Henceforth he wish'd that I should share with him
His execrable power, and afterwards
Should be its infamous inheritor.
Yet human tears from his despotic eyes
Ceased not to fall; and he to me unfolded,
As to a son, the darkest labyrinths,
Unblushingly, of his corrupted heart.
At length, to make me perfectly convinced,
He made me read (oh heaven!) a fatal letter.
With her own hand, Servilia wrote it to him.
In that disastrous letter, which was written
And read by him ere the Pharsalian trumpet
“Gave dreadful note of preparation,”
Servilia apprehensively reveals
And proves, that I'm the offspring of their loves;
And in concise and energetic words,
She conjures Cæsar not to make himself
The murderer of his son.

Cim.
Oh fatal secret!
Why didst thou not in everlasting night
Remain conceal'd? ...

Cas.
If as a son he loves thee,
In seeing in thee so much real virtue,
In hearing thy sublime awakening thoughts,
How could the spirit of a genuine father
Ever resist thee? Thou hast now brought back
Indubitable proof from him, that nothing
Can rescue Cæsar from his vile delusion.

Bru.
Sometimes e'en yet to his infatuate mind
Truth penetrates, but with a feeble ray.
Accustom'd long to military power,
A fatal error absolutely rules him;
He deems consummate power consummate glory;
He thence persists to wish for this or death.

Cim.
And such a monster, let him then have death.

Cas.
He is a fix'd incorrigible tyrant.
Think now then that a citizen of Rome,
Oh Brutus, has no father ...

Cim.
Further think,
That he who is a tyrant has no sons ...

Bru.
And that in heart Brutus will ne'er have peace.—
Yes, in your presence now, high-minded friends,
This I confess; to you, who feel at heart
Nature's affections sacred and sublime;
To you, who take the impulse and the law
That prompt this lofty necessary deed,
Which we are now resolved to execute,
From nature take it; to you, who now pant,
With me, for ever to annihilate
That tyranny which severs and divides
And blasts each holiest tie, to make alone
Children secure within their father's bosoms;
To you I fear not to shew all the grief
And all the horror, which, in rivalry,
Little by little, tear my heart to pieces,
Who am the son of Cæsar and of Rome.
Before the tyrant's face I shew'd myself
His bitter and inexorable foe;
Nor did a word of mine, a look, a tear,
Betray a human weakness: but, alas!
No sooner had I from his sight escaped,
Than, as a victim, by a thousand furies
My spirit was beset. I flew from him
To my own Lares: there it is my lot
Always to find a sure alleviation
And fortifying counsel, and a heart
Far more sublime than mine: yes, Cato's daughter,
Equal to Cato, the illustrious Porcia,
My Lares dignifies, the wife of Brutus ...

Cas.
Worthy of Cato and of Brutus is
That high-soul'd lady.

Cim.
Ah! could this be also
Said of Servilia!

Bru.
Troubled as I was,
She welcomed me with countenance serene
And resolute, though now for many days
She had lain sick. Before I spake to her,
She cried to me, “Brutus, thou hast conceal'd
“Long in thy bosom mighty purposes:
“I never dared to question thee of them,
“Till by a certain but ferocious test
“I had myself my courage fully known.
“See; I am not a woman.”—Saying this,
She lets the foldings of her mantle fall,
And shews to me a large and horrible wound
Beneath her breast. Then she continued thus:
“With this right hand, and with this very dagger,
“Now many days since, this wide wound was made:
“It has been evermore conceal'd from thee,
“And by my heart inflexibly supported,
“Although my infirm frame in sickness languish'd;
“At length this wound, if I am not deceived,
“Renders me worthy both to hear and keep
“The secrets of my Brutus.”

Cim.
What a woman!

Cas.
What man can be compared to her?

Bru.
I fell
Prostrate before her, at a sight like this,
As to my sublime tutelary genius;
And weeping, motionless, astonish'd, mute,
I stood. Thence, reassuming speech, I told her
All the ferocious conflicts of my heart.
Seeing me weep, she wept; but her tears were
Roman, not feminine. She blamed alone
The adverse fates; and giving me perhaps
The last embrace, she dared remind me yet
That I'm a son of Rome, and Porcia's husband,
And that my name is Brutus.—Never, never,
Not for an instant, have I given such names
T'oblivion: and I come to swear this to you.
I only purposed to communicate
To you the least part of my horrible state;
And what I hitherto have said is merely
The anguish that throbs audibly to friends.
Now I'm aware I should convince you first,
That even nature cannot make me swerve
From Rome ... But grief, unutterable grief,
Will take me afterwards too certainly
From the possession of myself for ever.

Cim.
'Tis true that we are Romans; but we are
Men also; not in any wise to feel
The affections of our nature, were in us
Proofs of a brute ferocity ... Oh Brutus! ...
By thy words e'en from me are tears extorted.

Cas.
All human impulses we ought to feel;
But before those due to our bleeding country,
Sick and exanimate, the rest are mute:
Or if they speak indeed, it is allowed
To every man ere Brutus to regard them.

Bru.
In thus accounting me more than I am,
Noble and strong, thou makest me more strong
And noble than I could be by myself.
Cassius, behold my tears are now dispersed.
The shades of night are gathering fast: to-morrow
Will be the important day. I swear once more,
That which already is resolved among us.
On you do I implicitly depend;
Depend on me: nothing of you I ask,
Except that you depend upon the signal
From me alone.

Cas.
Ah! thou art certainly
The noblest of the Romans.—But, who comes? ...

Cim.
Whom see I? Anthony?

Bru.
Assuredly
Cæsar now sends him to me. Wait, and hear us.